


Best

by Ellie226



Series: Mark/El [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Daddy Kink, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El just wants someone to love her the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best

“I hate-” I began whining, but managed to cut myself off when he turned around and gave me the DaddyLook which is so very often closely followed by time-out or a spanking.

“Do you remember what we talked about this weekend?” his voice sounded casual, but I had clearly wandered onto some thin ice.

“We talked about a lot of stuff,” I pointed out, in what I can only tell you was a completely reasonable tone and in no way justified his response.

Because the next thing I knew, he had crossed the kitchen and was hurrying me to the corner, one hand on my arm and the other spanking me! With no warning whatsoever and it was completely unfair, a point that I was raising loudly and repeatedly. 

When we got to the corner, he stood behind me for a minute, waiting for me to quiet down so he could talk. I managed to calm myself pretty quickly. Big and loomy with an exceptionally hard hand tends to do that to a girl.

“Let’s see if time-out helps you remember.”

And with that, he simply left me there. In time-out. Which I loathe. The kitchen corner is painted what I had considered a gorgeous color the first time he cooked for me. Not so much now that I spend what seems like ¾ of my life staring at it.

I waited for a million hours before cracking. You can’t give in too early. It makes them feel all impressed with their Daddying skills, and that way leads to no good. 

“Daddddddy,” I whined piteously, “am I going to have to wait here foreverrrrrrrrrr?”

“That depends, has 10 minutes improved your memory?”

Okay, there’s no way that it was only ten minutes. Regardless, “yes?” I asked more than answered.

“Come over here then,” he snapped his fingers and pointed in front of himself. He has got to stop reading stories online. It’s making him even more toppish. A point that I plan to raise with him in the near future, perhaps at a time when I was not already in trouble. For now though, I figured that it was best to go where he pointed. Which I did (quite obediently), and waited.

“Go on.”

I hate saying it. I hate talking about what we talked about. I hate acknowledging this thing that we do that is weird and embarrassing. He forces me to do it every time, under the mistaken impression that we’re somehow equal partners in all of this (which may be somewhat fair, but you know what, shut up. You want rational behavior and fair and balanced story telling, why don’t you tell me about your latest spanking).

“Not ‘sposed to complain.”

“Eyes on me please. Not supposed to complain when Eleanor?”

I sighed heavily and looked up at him, reciting near-verbatim the edict from the weekend, “doing what Daddy says but complaining about it or having a bad attitude is just as bad as being dis’bedient,” I cringed at that word.

“That’s right. Frankly El, it’s worse. Because it’s you pretending that you’re being obedient but still misbehaving like a naughty little brat.”

I bit my lip and nodded, “I know.”

“Okay. I’m going to tell you again then. I’d like you to go and get your shoes so we can go.”

I sighed and went to get my shoes. I didn’t want to go have dinner with my parents. It was my nephew’s birthday, and they were having a party. Pulling on my shoes, I walked back out to the kitchen. 

Daddy smiled at me and took my hand, “thank you for doing what I asked Princess.”

We went out to the car, where he strapped me in (in the front seat at least), and then got into the car himself. I was quiet as we drove, looking out the window. Midway to their house, he reached over and took my hand, holding it.

“I’m not having a bad attitude Daddy,” I felt like I should clarify this with him. Sometimes, if I’m quiet, he thinks I’m pouting.

“No?” he asked. He sounded amused.

I sighed. “I just hate seeing them. They don’t like me.”

Letting go of my hand, he reached up to touch my cheek. “That’s not true Sweetheart. Your parents love you.”

“I didn’t say they don’t love me; I said they don’t like me. It’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Uh huh. They love me because I’m their kid and they have to. But they don’t like me.”

“El, your parents like you.”

I thumped my foot against the bottom of the dashboard in frustration, “no they don’t Daddy.”

“Hey,” he said, tapping my leg in warning, “we don’t kick Eleanor.”

“But they really really don’t Daddy. And it’s not fair; it’s not a bad attitude,” my voice had gone ever so slightly higher as I tried to explain what I meant, and I was now twisting my hands together in frustration.

Daddy sighed as he pulled off the road and into a nearby parking lot. Putting the car in park, he turned to look at me, “Princess, we talked about this.”

“No, but you’re not listening.” I was upset I didn’t have the words, and I was worried that he was going to take my attempts to explain as arguing with him.

“I am listening; I’m just saying that we need to see your parents sometimes. It’s not fair for us to never go to their house because they stress you out when you love seeing everybody else. Especially now with Jake; you told me you wanted to be there for holidays and birthdays with him. This is the price for that.”

I thrust my jaw forward and pounded on my thigh with my fist. All that managed to do was get me an actual swat to the leg from Daddy, who had become death on anything he considered self-injuring. I wanted him to understand what I was saying, and I was rapidly moving toward a temper tantrum.

“Are you ready to go now Sweetheart?”

I pulled my knees up to my chin and stared out the windshield, my eyes prickling with unshed tears. 

“El, I need you to talk to me. You’re the one who said you wanted to make sure you got to see Jake a lot. We need to figure out a way for you to get what you want without tears every time you see your mom.”

“They don’t like me-”

Daddy interrupted, “yes they do Eleanor.” His voice was tinged with frustration.

“No! Let me finish,” I could hear myself whining, but this was hard to explain and I couldn’t gather my thoughts if he interrupted. 

He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Princess. You’re right; I shouldn’t interrupt. Go ahead.” He waited patiently.

“They don’t like me me Daddy. They don’t want to hear about what’s going on with me. It’s like my birthday, when they got me that dress?” I checked to see if he remembered, going on when he nodded. “It’s like they’ve got this FakeEllie they like. Like my mom complains about you. She doesn’t get this,” I gestured between the two of us. The Daddy/Girl dynamic was a source of frustration for my parents. “They want me to be independent. They’ve always wanted me to be independent, but I...like this.” I paused for a minute, then tried to continue, “It’s just when I’m me, they’re disappointed.” I stared at my knees, my voice lowering to a near-whisper, “I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

I couldn’t look at him. I wasn’t sure if he understood, and I couldn’t figure out a better way to explain.

Daddy reached over and gently rubbed my back. “I’m sorry Princess. You’re right; I wasn’t listening to you. What do you want to do? Should we go tonight?”

I looked at him, not sure what he was talking about. “We told them we were coming,” I reminded him.

“We did,” he nodded, “but we don’t have to. If you want to turn around and go home, we can. The absolute most important thing is that you’re okay. It’s up to you.”

I bit my lip, thinking for a minute. Finally, I started talking, my voice hesitant. “I want to go. I just don’t want it to be like it always is. ‘Cause then we go home and I end up feeling bad and you spank me ‘cause I do something bad.”

“You want to maybe stay for dinner but then leave right after?” he offered.

“I don’t know,” I wasn’t used to this much input. Daddy was normally pretty clear about what we were doing, and I wasn’t sure that I liked the responsibility of making this decision.

“Tell you what,” he said, rescuing me, “what if we try to go, but we can have a code in case you need an escape. How does that sound?”

“Like what?”

“Like if you start getting upset or feeling overwhelmed, you can tell me that I got jury summons in the mail. Just pretend that you just remembered and you didn’t want to forget to tell me. Then we’ll wait a few minutes, and I’ll pretend that we have to leave.”

“We can do that?” I was genuinely surprised; it had never occurred to me that we could go for only part of the night.

“We can. Or we can decide right now that we’re only going for dinner but not cake. Or, we can decide to just go home. It’s up to you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I want to go, but I’ll tell you about jury duty if I get upset.”

“Alright,” Daddy began driving, and we continued to my parents’ house. Where we had dinner. And cake. And watched Jake open presents. Mark sat next to me the entire night, holding my hand and subtly being Daddy. 

That night, when we were lying in bed, I wanted to talk about it. “I still didn’t like going Daddy,” I wanted to make sure he understood that.

“Uh huh,” he said, waiting for me to go on.

I teared up, “why can’t they just like me? What’s so bad about me that they want me to be somebody else?”

Daddy hugged me close and rubbed my back soothingly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault that they don’t see that.”

“I just want them to like me,” I cried, burying my face into his chest.

“I know Princess. But remember when we talked about this? You can’t make them be the people you want them to be. You just have to figure out a way to deal with them the way they are. And if that means only seeing them sometimes, that’s okay.” 

He paused, quiet, then started up again, “and I was wrong Princess. I should have listened better to you. I’m sorry,” he hugged me tightly.

We lay together, lost in thought, until I finally had to ask. “Daddy?”

“Mmmh?”

“You like me, right?” my voice was small as I asked.

“I do. I like the way you laugh when you really think something’s funny, and the way you get all excited about stuff,” he paused for a minute, “and, I like being your Daddy. There’s nothing wrong with what we do.”

I nodded, listening to him, then mumbled into his chest.

“Say that again Sweetheart?”

“More than other people?”

“More than oth-” he sounded confused, but then realized what I was saying. “I like you the best. You’re my favorite.”

“Nobody ever likes me best.”

“Well, I do,” he said. Before I could ask him anymore questions, he continued, “I like you the best all the time Princess. And I love you the best all the time. It doesn’t matter what happens or what anybody else thinks.”

I nodded at that, wiggling closer and finally closing my eyes. Opening them up quickly, I wanted to tell him something, “I like you the best all the time too Daddy. Even when you spank me; I still like you most.”

“That’s good to know. Now,” he paused, and moved his head so he was talking into my neck, making me laugh from the vibrations, “it’s time to go to sleep.” 

“Daddy! Stop!” I giggled and pushed him away. “Stella wants another story first,” I told him.

“Well, Stella has to wait until tomorrow night for another story.”

I blew a raspberry at that. “Stella doesn’t like you the best Daddy.”

“I’m surprisingly okay with that. Now go to sleep.”


End file.
